


unexpected

by amaelamin



Category: Infinite (Band)
Genre: Crossdressing, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-27
Updated: 2016-07-27
Packaged: 2018-07-27 03:49:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7602202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amaelamin/pseuds/amaelamin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alcohol and fooling around, crossdressing, Woohyun is evil, Sungyeol sometimes doesn't understand his life, and Myungsoo is unpredictable.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. unexpected

**Author's Note:**

> This is sort of an experiment in dynamics, of how quickly things can change when things don't go as planned or expected. From something straightforward - boys fooling around and drinking on a night off, teasing one another and joking - things can change quickly into something serious and confusing when you let your guard down. 
> 
> originally posted on AFF on 19 april 2013.

“Are we in an alternate dimension? Because Kim Myungsoo just beat me at poker for the fourth time in a row,” Sungyeol declared slowly, narrowing his eyes across the dining table at a very self-satisfied Myungsoo.

“You’re the one who taught him to play because you said the rest of us weren’t enough of a challenge for you,” Sungjong reminded him sweetly, taking another drink of his beer as he stretched out on the sofa.

“Yes, but I didn’t want him to _beat_ me!” Myungsoo beamed. “This idiot has no concept of a poker face, even, so I still have no idea how he won.”

“You should dare him to do a forfeit, Myungsoo-ya,” Hoya said lightly from his position on the floor in front of the television, cheeks happily pink with soju. “That would make this night of relatively tame debauchery complete.”

“I am not doing forfeits on one of my rare evenings off, thank you very much, hyung,” Sungyeol snapped.

“You could get him to wear his Yeolna dress for the rest of the evening,” Hoya went on, as if he hadn’t heard anything Sungyeol had said. “With the wig. Since we’re not allowed to have girls around we might as well make the best out of what we’ve got.”

Sungyeol was already poised for vehement protest when he paused. “Wait. Is that an insult or a compliment?” Hoya shrugged, laughing.

“Anyway, I don’t even _have_ the dress or the wig-”

“Yes, you do,” said Woohyun, because he was Woohyun. “I even know which wardrobe drawer you keep them in.” Sungyeol glowered at him beside Hoya, balancing his laptop neatly on his thighs. Stupid Woohyun. Sungyeol could deny it, but that would just end in Woohyun dragging the damn dress and wig out of Sungyeol’s room and Sungyeol drowning in ever increasing amounts of embarrassment. Stupid Woohyun.

“Well – well, why didn’t you remind me, I must have forgotten to give the dress back to the coordi noonas or something, you know -”

“Okay.” Myungsoo agreed, helpfully opening a new can of beer for Sungyeol. “The Yeolna dress.”

“- they must be wondering where it’s gotten to and – What?”

“Sunggyu hyung isn’t here, so there’s no one to nag at us for fooling around, and you just admitted you’ve kept the Yeolna dress and wig. Are you going to back out of a dare? The great Lee Sungyeol who never backs down from anything? Who just lost spectacularly and consecutively at poker to Kim Myungsoo, who couldn’t tell a lie if you paid him? _Hmm?_ ”

“Woohyun, you better lock your door later when you go to bed if you don’t want to wake up in a bed full of Jell-O,” Sungyeol grit his teeth.

“It’s okay, we don’t have Jell-O. Yeolna dress! Yeolna dress!” Woohyun clapped his hands happily.

“I demand a rematch! Wait, why don’t we have Jell-O?”

“Sure, we can have a rematch, as long as you do it in the dress,” Myungsoo said, nearly falling off his chair with the hilarity of Sungyeol’s scandalised face. “And Dongwoo hyung ate all the Jell-O, obviously. Yeolna dress! Yeolna dress!” Hoya and Sungjong joined in the chanting, Hoya enjoying himself far too much.

Sungyeol made a mental note to eat all the Jell-O first, next time, and to burn the damn dress tomorrow morning.

*

“Do you need help, my beautiful girlfriend?” Woohyun called outside Sungyeol’s bedroom door, snickering at the reply that came muffled through the wood.

“I wouldn’t be your girlfriend if you were the last man on earth. Also, you’re too short.”

Opening the door, Sungyeol flicked long fake hair over his shoulder in annoyance. “You are going to pay dearly for this one day, Nam Woohyun.”

“Me? Hoya hyung suggested it!”

“You didn’t have to tell them I still had the dress!”

Woohyun nodded readily, conceding. “Yeah. That was me. But if I hadn’t we wouldn’t be having the treat of seeing your stunning self in a too-short dress that shows off your extremely flat butt-” Woohyun grabbed a handful of the aforementioned butt, earning him a predictable punch in the mouth. Sungyeol stalked off into the living room, leaving Woohyun behind to half-laugh and half-moan in pain.

Hoya whistled appreciatively as Sungyeol appeared, Woohyun following and complaining up a storm.

“Shut up, hyung.”

“Ooh, so feisty.”

Myungsoo patted his lap serenely and Sungyeol balked. “Nobody said anything about sitting on anybody’s laps!”

“You lost four times, so obviously he gets to ask for four forfeits,” Hoya explained slowly, as if Sungyeol was stupid. Sungjong sat up on the sofa, watching the proceedings with ill-concealed glee.

“Hyung, what is that peeking out from under the dress?” Sungjong reached out to try to grab onto the hem of the checkered cotton that ended below the sparkly red of the Yeolna dress. Sungyeol jumped out of his way and reddened to the roots of his hair.

“My boxers, okay? Did you really expect me to go change my underwear for this?” Sungjong wrinkled his nose in distaste to Hoya’s guffaws.

“Sungyeol hyung, that’s really tacky.”

“Shut up, Sungjong.”

“Wait, so you mean you wore special underwear for the performance?” Woohyun asked, eyes twinkling from clearly not getting punched enough in one evening.

“Don’t pretend you don’t know!”

“No, I really don’t know,” Myungsoo said earnestly, leaning forward. Sungyeol refused to look at him.

“I hate all of you. It was just tight stretchy boxers, okay? So that nothing would show.”

“So that what wouldn’t show?” Myungsoo asked, looking for all the while like he was gathering serious information for a documentary he was planning.

“Things that shouldn’t be showing!” Sungyeol yelled. Hoya had to pause his laughing to breathe, wiping tears from his eyes.

“Tight… so you mean the line of the underwear?” Myungsoo cocked his head to one side. “That isn’t a big deal, and anyway the dress is sequined so how would any pantyline show-”

“He’s talking about his family jewels, Myungsoo, you poor child,” Woohyun said in a stage whisper, and cried out at the hysterical slaps Sungyeol sent his way. “Can’t have – ow! Stop it, you bastard! – unseemly bulges bulging about when you’re pretending to be Hyuna.”

Myungsoo’s eyes widened almost comically. “Bulges – oh!” His eyes moved of their own volition to Sungyeol’s crotch. “ _Oh._ ”

“What are you looking at!” Sungyeol cried, trying to cover himself.

“See, hyung, you should have changed your underwear,” Sungjong said solemnly, and had to get up to escort Hoya back to his room to recover from his laughing fit.

Woohyun smiled, and it was a smile Sungyeol had come to fear. “Shall we play a drinking game?”

*

“You lose,” Woohyun grinned, eyes bright with alcohol.

Sungyeol wondered. He wondered about the origin of the universe, and the formation of the continents, and why the sky was blue, and the everlasting question: why did he always end up doing what Woohyun wanted?

He got up from Myungsoo’s lap (round lost: one; dare: sit on either Woohyun or Myungsoo, and he was damned if he was going to give Woohyun the satisfaction of grabbing his butt again) and hiked up his dress to swing a leg over Myungsoo, the blue and white checkers of his boxers in full view of everyone who cared to see (round lost: seven). He sat back down, straddling Myungsoo in his chair, one of Myungsoo’s hands automatically coming down to rest on a bare thigh. He swatted it away, conscious of the dress, and Woohyun smiled wider.

“I don’t understand the point of this,” Sungyeol said, or tried to say, the soju playing tricks with his tongue.

“What point must there be, beyond the point of seeing you in highly compromising positions I can use for future blackmailing?”

“Think of poor Myungsoo,” Sungyeol appealed, ever the humanitarian. Myungsoo giggled inconsequentially, and swiped his thumb alongside the bottom of Sungyeol’s now dangerously-high hem. Sungyeol wondered when Myungsoo’s warm hand had made its way back on his thigh, and why he wasn’t bothered. He blamed it on the beer.

“If I pass out somebody better get me out of this dress and wig. If I wake up tomorrow and Sunggyu hyung or any of the manager hyungs see me like this in the cold light of day someone – meaning you, Nam – is going to die,” Sungyeol scolded, trying to twist around enough to glare at Woohyun. He overbalanced and Myungsoo caught him, considerately shifting him closer for more stability, arms wrapped loosely around his waist. Sungyeol placed his hands on Myungsoo’s shoulders, because it just seemed like the natural thing to do. He was rapidly coming to the conclusion that alcohol truly was an amazing thing; instead of feeling humiliated in his current position he was merely beginning to feel rather warm and fond of Myungsoo. Myungsoo hummed pleasantly, leaning back to thread his fingers through the brown waves framing Sungyeol’s face. “You’re so pretty.”

“Shut up, Myungsoo.” Sungyeol said fondly.

Woohyun lost the next round, so Sungyeol made him drink three shots in succession, trying to knock him out before Woohyun could think of making him do something truly diabolical. Myungsoo was talking a mile a minute about something he had lost track of five minutes ago, and he was sleepy, so sleepy.

“I’m done,” he finally announced, getting laboriously off Myungsoo. “We’re all going to suffer tomorrow morning if we stay up any later or drink any more.”

“Sunggyu hyung’s not even back yet,” Woohyun complained, slurring his words. “I wonder if I’ll ever be able to get him into that dress.”

“Don’t even try, Woohyun. Don’t even try,” Sungyeol answered, unsure how serious Woohyun was being but alarmed at the thought nonetheless. Woohyun shrugged and made a sad face.

Myungsoo followed Sungyeol up, a protective hand on his back.

“I’ll walk you home, my lady,” Myungsoo smiled, dimpling. Sungyeol didn’t have the heart to tell the poor idiot no.

They could hear Woohyun grumbling outside as he cleared up as best he could, gathering glass bottles and beer cans to drop them in the kitchen sink. Someone would have to clean up tomorrow and take the trash out, Sungyeol thought tiredly; he just hoped it wasn’t going to be him. He bent to pull up the hem of his dress before he remembered Myungsoo was still there, leaning against the door to his room, and hesitated awkwardly.

“A proper lady never undresses in front of men,” Myungsoo said somberly, and Sungyeol made an exasperated face at him. “So go away, then.”

Myungsoo moved closer and reached up to run his fingers through Sungyeol’s hair again, faint smile playing on his lips. “Too bad you don’t have the cat ears hairband anymore,” he laughed quietly. “That really was pretty.”

Sungyeol stared down at Myungsoo, his best friend suddenly seeming a lot less drunk than he was a short while ago.

“And red really is your colour. Maybe you should ask for your hair to go red again for the next concept.” Myungsoo continued talking in that same soft voice heating Sungyeol’s cheeks and for some reason, closer than he’d been all evening.

Sungyeol wordlessly half-turned and opened a drawer, searching all the way to the back of it before finding what he was looking for. He held out the cat ears hairband to Myungsoo as if in a dream and Myungsoo lit up, Sungyeol seeing only shards of him; long fingers accepting the hairband, a bright eye lifted towards his, dry lips parted as Myungsoo adjusted the accessory carefully on Sungyeol’s obligingly bowed head.

“Perfect,” Myungsoo whispered above the quiet thudding of Sungyeol’s heart.

He pressed a reverent kiss to the side of Sungyeol’s mouth, alcohol on his breath sweet in Sungyeol’s nose. Sungyeol stared unfocused at a point on the bedroom wall somewhere beyond Myungsoo’s right ear, the softness of Myungsoo’s lips against his mouth and cheek bulldozing him, his mind scrabbling for a foothold.

“I’ll leave you to get undressed now,” Myungsoo said as he pulled away after a moment, dropping a hand to Sungyeol’s to curl his fingers gently around Sungyeol’s wrist. “Goodnight.”

He walked out to the sounds of Woohyun still grumbling in the kitchen, the entire episode having lasted less than five minutes.

Sungyeol turned to his full-length mirror and pulled off the wig and hairband together, his short boy hair clashing violently with the dress. He slowly pulled it off over his head and let it drop behind him, feeling strange despite the familiarity and rightness of the picture he now made with his flat chest and narrow hips disappearing into thin boxers. A day in the life of Lee Sungyeol, he thought, the right side of his mouth burning while he tried not to think of Myungsoo not acting at all like Myungsoo and what would happen tomorrow.

*


	2. predictable

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Woohyun learns a little something from Sungjong, Sungjong realises something about Myungsoo, and Sungyeol is slowly surrendering.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the tip of the iceberg of my own thoughts re: crossdressing and general reactions to it in kpop.
> 
> originally posted on AFF on 21 april 2013.

“Do you want anything to drink?” Woohyun asked, sticking his head into the room. Sungyeol looked up, skeptical eyebrow already raised. “What?”

“A drink. To drink. You want?”

Sungyeol glanced quickly at Myungsoo beside him, contemplating Woohyun silently. “Um. Water, I guess? Thank you?”

Woohyun nodded and left for the kitchen, leaving the two to continue with their manhwa reading on Sungyeol’s laptop.

“You see? You see what I mean? He’s been extra nice to me lately and it’s making me terrified. What is he planning?”

Sungyeol sat up to match Myungsoo’s pose. “Something’s going on. I have to be on my guard. When he brings the water you taste it first.”

Myungsoo laughed. “It’s weird, but maybe he has a good reason.”

Sungyeol fixed Myungsoo with a Look. “It’s not _normal_.”

Myungsoo shrugged and turned his attention back to the screen, prompting Sungyeol to lay back down on his front once more, nonchalantly accepting the glass of water from Woohyun when it came but all the while scrutinizing Woohyun’s carefully-blank face. He reached down to put the suspicious glass on the floor beside the bed before propping himself up on his elbows once more. “I’m not drinking that,” he muttered.

Myungsoo shook his head and took a gulp himself, other hand resting between Sungyeol’s shoulderblades. He played with the ends of Sungyeol’s hair as they clicked between pages of the manhwa, running the strands between his fingers and combing them down neatly.

Things that Sungyeol knew about Myungsoo could fill a book by now, but one of the foremost things about him was that Myungsoo liked to touch; it had become a fact of life. He genuinely enjoyed the feel of someone else’s skin or hair beneath his fingers and the warmth and solidness of another body near his, which made Dongwoo love him fiercely and the rest view him with a sort of exasperated endearment. He was needy and intimate and it scared Sungyeol; he’d come to accept, expect and eventually enjoy the closeness, but he still couldn’t look Myungsoo in the eye sometimes. The raw affection in Myungsoo’s face made him feel small.

He tried not to think of the kiss two days before, which was probably just an extension of Myungsoo’s need to adore because Myungsoo hadn’t looked at or touched him any differently with new eyes or a shift of expectations. Sungyeol sighed, and Myungsoo absent-mindedly rubbed Sungyeol’s back in response.

*

_”Interesting that your first reaction to Sungyeol hyung dressed as a girl was to grab his butt, hyung,” Sungjong said as he passed Woohyun on his way into the bathroom, Woohyun just exiting._

“What? What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Just saying. Think about it.”

*

“What did you think of my performance, hyung? In the Evolution concert.” Sungjong asked, the two of them caught in a bustle of ten million other people behind the scenes of a show filming, supposedly the focus but also the least important. Nobody was paying them any attention, not really; not the ladies who came to fix their hair or dab at their foreheads with tissues, or the people with lights and scripts rushing around. Myungsoo had never gotten used to this contradiction, but he had gotten good at blocking it out.

“Your Adult Ceremony stage?” Myungsoo smiled. “You’ve already asked me this before, Sungjongie.”

“Yes, but I want to hear it again.” Sungjong wheedled, and Myungsoo smiled again, taking it as just a young boy’s vanity.

He told Sungjong how beautiful he had been, how arresting he’d been, and how brave he’d been. _Brave_ , Sungjong mused.

“And how about Sungyeol hyung?”

Myungsoo paused for a moment. “You mean his Sexy Back stage?”

“No – the Troublemaker one, with me.”

Myungsoo looked off at the controlled chaos around them, and gave a chuckle, the one Sungjong knew all too well. “He was perfect, Sungjongie. So-”

“And his Sexy Back performance?”

They were called then, hurried over to the filming area, but Sungjong had seen the blush on Myungsoo’s face and he had gotten his answer. _People were so, so interesting._

*

_”I demand you tell me what you meant, earlier,” Woohyun cornered Sungjong. “Are you calling me a pervert, or something?”_

“No,” Sungjong said, leaning against the wall of the corridor. “It’s very simple, really, hyung.”

Woohyun pursed his lips the way he did when he was worried, and annoyed with trying not to show it; Sungjong smiled inwardly.

“Would you grab Sungyeol hyung’s butt if he wasn’t in a dress?” Sungjong asked directly.

Woohyun frowned. “That is a very loaded question.”

“Just answer the question, hyung.” Sungjong told himself not to roll his eyes.

“Maybe? If we were fooling around? I don’t know, I don’t think about when and where I want to grab Sungyeollie’s butt!”

“Okay, rephrase. _Why_ did you grab his butt when he was in the dress?”

“I wanted to tease him, I guess-”

“Would you grab a girl’s butt like that?”

Woohyun’s eyebrows shot into his hair. “You know I wouldn’t!”

“So why did you do it when he was in the Yeolna dress?”

“Because – because –“ Woohyun frowned again. “Because-“

“Because he was dressed as a girl? And it somehow seemed okay for you to do it to him because him wearing a dress meant that you could do to him what you possibly wanted to do to a girl, but with no consequences?” Sungjong said matter-of-factly, and waited for the penny to drop.

Woohyun’s eyes grew huge, and he restlessly shifted his weight back and forth from one leg to the other all the while staring hard at Sungjong. “So you’re saying I’m…?”

“Did Myungsoo hyung grab his butt?”

“No,” Woohyun said slowly. “He said Sungyeollie was pretty and then escorted him back to his room after the game, calling him ‘my lady’.”

Sungjong couldn’t stop the wide beam that forced its way onto his face. “Of course he did.”

“…I’m a male chauvinist pig,” Woohyun said hollowly, slumping against the wall opposite Sungjong.

Sungjong patted his shoulder kindly. “Just misguided, I think, hyung.”

*

“Sungyeollie, I made tofu soup for you,” Woohyun told him as they sat down to dinner. Sungyeol made an alarmed face at Myungsoo, who just shook his head as he smiled down at the table. It turned out not to be laced with vinegar or full of salt, but Sungyeol still ate his bowl on high alert.

Sungjong watched Woohyun flutter apologetically around Sungyeol to Sungyeol’s increasing paranoia, and laughed to himself. He considered telling it all to Hoya later, but only if Hoya promised to keep it to himself.

He’d always known Myungsoo wore his heart on his sleeve, but he’d never realized just to what extent. For him to feel the same about Sungyeol no matter what he was pretending, feminine-sexy as a girl or masculine-sexy as a man – Sungjong had to admit it rather bowled him over. Sungyeol was beautiful to Myungsoo, and Sungjong supposed to Myungsoo that was the end of it.

“Come on, we’re watching Moulin Rouge tonight,” Sungjong announced to the room to protests.

“It’s too sappy and we’ve watched it a million times, Sungjong,” Sunggyu complained.

Sungjong ignored him and went to get the dvd. “Let some love into your shriveled old heart, hyung.”

An hour later Dongwoo was crying into Hyoan hyung’s shirt and Woohyun was singing along softly, Sunggyu trying not follow. Myungsoo had Sungyeol in one of his usual backhugs, long legs stretched out before them on the floor, chin propped on Sungyeol’s shoulder. Sungjong wanted to flip a table at the picture they made.

“It makes you want to throw things, doesn’t it?” Hoya whispered just then into Sungjong’s ear, eyes trained on the screen. “ _Love lifts us up where we belong, all you need is love!_ ”

“Truer words have never been spoken, hyung,” Sungjong said wryly, noticing one of Sungyeol’s hands coming up to cover Myungsoo’s, Myungsoo hugging him tighter in response. “We can only hope we ever experience the same.”

*


End file.
